


Mustard-Bastard

by hearts_kun



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Food, Humor, M/M, draft name was 'hot dog shenanigans' and that's pretty much it, interrogation room, shitpost fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_kun/pseuds/hearts_kun
Summary: Ren knew, of course, that Goro Akechi was a bastard, but to get shitty hot dogs involved into a process of his pure salvation out of the interrogation room? That was a jerk move.





	Mustard-Bastard

Predictably hot end of a hot dog meets Ren’s forehead, burning. He frowns and grabs the bun from Goro’s dirty gloved hands. His mind is still hazy but he can swear he’s not leaving this room without a good bite of a sweet salty sausage covered with good spicy mustard, the most important ingredient of all…

However, the moment his teeth sink into the steamy hot dog, he realizes. He’s been bamboozled.

“Where’s the mustard?” he mumbles with his mouth still full. Goro winces in a mixture of disgust and contempt, then lets out a lo-ong, long sigh.

“There _is_ no mustard, and I have no idea why that is a surprise for you.”

Ren squints at him as a wave of pain hits the back of his head. He swallows the last bit of food and chews nothingness in his mouth for a while, his face getting darker each second.

Finally, he spits out with a quiet voice, “If I wanted to know what absence of delicious spicy mustard would taste like, I’d bite into my own hopeless empty soul.”

Goro visibly clenches his teeth, seething. When he speaks, his voice is almost hysterical, pitch shifting as he gets more nervous with every word:

“Amamiya, stop being edgy over a fucking hot dog. We’re not in the position to—”

He stops, not finishing, his eyes flash to the corpse of a guard, lying lifelessly on the floor. Ren follows his gaze, helplessly chewing this distasteful hot dog, lacking the only thing that ever made fast food bearable.

The whole concept here was (presumably) that Ren, being in a state he is, wouldn’t be able to stand up and walk outside of the police chambers on his own two legs without a bit of food, and Goro was a good enough (self-proclaimed) boyfriend to take care of that. To take care of some calories, you know, not the mustard, obviously, because that’s the bastard he was and is.

Mustard-bastard.

That rhymes so well, actually, could there be a reason for that?

“Are you finished?” Goro hisses nervously after a minute of grave silence and staring into space, calculating something. “We need to get out of here, and I can’t carry you.”

Ren shakes his head, shoving the last bit of the hot dog into his mouth, and grimacing. Ew. He reminds himself why he decided to break up with Goro the very next moment after accepting his confession. Just try and guess what kind of shitty boyfriend Goro would be if he can’t even carry Ren to the exit in his own two hands while being the Main Reason Why Ren Is Even Here All Beaten and Drugged.

Meanwhile, Goro’s face starts reflecting all fifty shades of anger. Ren chuckles to himself, swallows for the last time and tries to lift himself off the chair. His body feels heavy like a thousand catbuses. He catches himself from falling by grabbing the table’s corner. It’s sharp edge is cutting into his palm, hopefully not enough to draw blood (he’d lost enough of that kinda liquid for today).

“You can walk?” the question seems more like a statement, and the caring implication dissolves in Goro’s annoyance and anxiety. He keeps glancing at the corpse near his feet, seemingly unaware he’s making a little step back each time, moving farther from the body.

Ren frowns, still holding the table. It’s painful, he has to say, but he doesn’t.

“Nope,” he mumbles instead.

Not even listening, Goro nods to himself, “Let’s move then.”

Ren groans.

“Thought you’d help, yaknow…”

Already at the door, Goro chuckles and grins creepily, “Well, if your soul is as empty as you claim it to be, then you should have no problems dragging such a light body all the way to the surface, huh?”

Ren swallows, disgusting taste of the mustardless hot dog still in his mouth. His lips form a perfect “O”, fully revealing the depth of his offense.

He suddenly thinks he has little to no idea as to why Goro decided to help him out of here in the first place and pressed a hot dog to his forehead instead of a gun barrel. That’s the kind of thing he normally expects from this bastard, after all, otherwise they’d be dating already, cause, you know. Reasons. Looks. Butts. Smiles.

Letter by letter, Ren repeats the last thing Goro said. ‘S-u-r-f-a-c-e’. Doubt scratches the back of his mind, his weak body collapsing back to the chair.

New wave of helplessness hits him, provoked by the drug still wearing off. He nearly closes his eyes, almost unable to think, “Hey, are you even sure you’re talking me to the ‘surface’, whatever that is?”

Goro opens the door to the hall with that same anxious creepy grin and puts a finger to his lips.

“Sh-h. You’ll see when we’re home, honey,” he whispers.

Overwhelmed with shitty junk food and shitty traitors-saviors, mustard-bastards, playing their shitty roles, Ren passes out and drifts into nothingness.

What Goro thinks of as ‘home’, he prefers not to guess about.


End file.
